The Darkest Evening of the Year
by TarantellaEarth
Summary: Mathias couldn't ignore that he had just performed his darkest deed. His heart ached with regret, and one day ached for a quiet stranger he met, whose darkest deed, whose voice, whose heart, Mathias very much wanted to know. DenNor, AU,
1. Chapter 1

I originally wanted to use this story for a different pairing, but one day while doodling Denmark I recalled a bunch of fanarts I had seen in which he was paired with Norway and my liking for this pairing was rekindled. My stab at a more angst-ridden story will now be for this DenNor AU. By the way, soccer is mentioned once, and they mean the American form of soccer, as in, game that is played with a black-and-white ball.

As is often the case in fandom, Denmark's name will be rendered **Mathias. **

Norway's fandom hasn't agreed on a name for him yet in absence of one from Himaruya, so I will call him one of my own choice: **Aleksander.** The "and" part of his name, by the way, is pronounced more elegantly, as in, Al-ecks-AHN-der. NOT the "Al-igg-ZAN-der" way many Americans tend to say it.

If or when Himaruya names these characters, I will change their names here to their official ones.

* * *

_The heart asks pleasure first_

_And then excuse from pain._

-Emily Dickinson.

* * *

It was the week after his mistake. His last mistake, Berwald said. He didn't feel like remembering what they were mad at him about. He could tune it all out except for the fact that they were serious this time.

No tomorrow. No next weekend. No sorries, no bruises to pat. Berwald swore that unless he changed his ways, they would move away. They were sick of him.

Mathias was alone. This was punishment enough. Companions who had stood by him for years, since school days, no longer wanted him. There was no hurt quite like being unwanted. He tried to dull it, and short of putting himself to sleep, this was the best and simplest way. There was an empty glass in front of his hands that said so. Before long it would start dancing or growing orange polka dots. Whatever his mind felt like dreaming up when in a drunken stupor. He'd dreamed up a zombie invasion once. Anything would be fine, so long as it made him forget that this was nothing but his fault.

"I hope you're gonna pay for all those drinks," somebody in front of him said. "Hey, look up. Seriously, if you can't pay for these, get out."

He felt a faint desire to punch this guy. Greater still was the desire to _not _look up as commanded. It compelled him to remove his wallet and let slip a number of bills he didn't bother to count. They were all taken right off the table, all wanted. Mathias wondered if any one person in the world was loved more than most people loved money. No one ever told money it was overbearing and loud and violent. And never forget violent.

Someone sat on the stool next to him, and he lifted his head to see, or say hi, because he could be a nice guy if he could rein in his mouth a little, and he wanted to remind himself of it. He lifted his head from its sunken, leaning place between his shoulders to look and say, "Hey, have you been there long? I didn't see you."

It was a man, perhaps his age, perhaps younger, sitting with a glass of some fizzy beverage near one hand. Navy jacket and a funny hat sort of like the one Tino wore sometimes. Hair some shade of blonde he'd never seen named, most of his bangs sticking out of the hat and hanging a little over his face. Over one ear, there was a little section of hair that was held neatly back with a hairclip in the shape of a cross. He was smaller, thinner than Mathias. Certainly not a bad sight. But frowning.

"I've been here half an hour." the young man said, and though he was a little blurred at the edges in Mathias' vision, he could nearly see the frown in his voice.

"Well…I've been sitting here longer than that and didn't see ya. So, sorry. I don't mean to be ignorant of you…hheh…" A smile curved pleasantly across his face. "I don't mean to be ignorant. Ha!"

He chuckled to himself for a bit about that—he didn't like letting jokes fade if they were good—and realized too late that it might irritate Hairclip, so he stopped. Hairclip didn't say anything. Mathias looked up again and saw him looking up at one of the six flat-screens this place used to bring in all the sports fans possible. It was usually rather successful, but this was merely a replay of yesterday's tepid match between Brazil's and Italy's teams. Mathias rubbed his eyes to help his vision clear, and squinted at the man; he was watching the game with as much focus as Kiku did on an Xbox.

It got quiet except for a family in a corner seat whose daughters kept laughing at something and waving around forks speared with _frikadeller_. The volume on the screen wasn't loud enough to tune them out, and thrice people walked in front of the TV to get to the bathroom, but Hairclip ignored the interruptions completely, hardly blinked, and kept watching.

Mathias dragged his eyes up and down the man's frame, and saw nothing indicative of a sports fan on him. His clothes looked almost like a naval outfit…wasn't that a style nowadays? Or last year? He had a belt on, over his jacket. Was that a style, too? And of course the hairclip. Gift from a girlfriend, perhaps. Maybe he liked to style his hair. Or was gay. Hm.

"Italy wins." He said, nudging his empty glass. "Somehow!"

"I know. Twenty-sixteen. Ricardo Mancini gets kicked in the left calf, fractures it. His teammates have to carry him off the field screaming."

Well, the game had been tepid except for that, Mathias told himself. "If you've seen it already, why are you watching again?"

"My place doesn't have TV. This place does."

"Ah, that sucks, man."

Hairclip didn't try to add anything else, even when commercials came on and showed a trailer for an exceptionally boring movie. Mathias then decided most guys wouldn't appreciate being thought of as "Hairclip," even ones who wore hairclips, so made a kind motion to fix that. "What's your name?"

"Why do you care?"

He gave that some thought, or tried to, and voiced the vague but certain concept: "Because it's a kind thing to do, I guess. It's better to talk to someone who's a little less of a total stranger than someone whose name I don't even know."

The strange blonde looked in his direction for the first time and Mathias noticed his eye color. Blue-ish purple. Maybe he had contacts. He took a sip from the straw in his drink—Coke?—and murmured back, "I'm Aleksander."

"Aleksander?"

"Aleksander."

"Al-ecks-_ahn_-der!"

Aleksander curled his lip. "If I tell you my name is _Shut Up _—"

"No, no, it's just," Mathias laughed, his shoulder shaking. "you got a little bit of an accent. I can hear it when you say your name. Otherwise, you sound almost like a native. Let me guess. Um. Norwegian?"

Aleksander's brows rose up the slightest inch. "Yes." He said, sounding unfortunately not surprised at all. "And you're Danish."

Mathias had to smile. "_Ja, jeg er._ How'd you know? My natural sex appeal?"

Someone came out of the kitchen at that moment and changed the channel on the flat-screen Aleksander had been watching. Now it was showing a documentary about birds of prey. Some type of raptor with enormous, speckled wings was dive-bombing towards the ocean, which was interesting to watch and all, but Mathias wanted to watch Aleksander right now. But Aleksander murmured, "Ohh," and then was watching the documentary, and with a different expression than before. Mathias studied it and tried to decide how it was different, and at last came to the conclusion that he was…interested. He liked birds more than sports.

'_Why is that? Tell me why, I want you to tell me why,' _He tried to project, but Aleksander paid him no mind. He was watching the bird—falcon, the British-sounding narrator said—deftly take a fish from the surface and glide up towards a cliff nest as though it had plucked up the cure for cancer.

Mathias' hand tightened on his glass. _'What have I done to deserve being ignored? Stop it. Look at me!' _

"You like…birds?" he ventured.

"My brother has a pet bird."

"Pet falcon?"

"Puffin."

Shaken a little more into alertness, Mathias scoffed back, "A _puffin_? Are you serious?" but he got no reply. He ground his teeth. This stranger had no right to treat him like some high school outcast. He had never been the object of such shame and loneliness, no, he had always lived the very opposite. No pretty foreign boy would shun him like an invalid. He inclined his head slightly, narrowed his eyes just so. If the foreign boy was looking, he would have taken notice. People always took notice of him. Aleksander would take notice of him.

Another bird appeared on screen and screeched. "I'm talking to you," Mathias said in time with its cry.

"I don't care. Please keep your mouth shut. I want to see this." Aleksander said.

Did the guy know what a dick he looked like right now? "Don't pretend I'm freaking bothering you or something. If I was bothering you, you'd have left already."

The Norwegian replied, "You _are _bothering me. I come here to watch television, not listen to people talk."

"Maybe people would talk to you a little less if they didn't think they were being willfully ignored half the time." Mathias replied.

Aleksander reached his hand up and removed his hat; faint hairs floated back down to rest on his scalp. He turned his eyes on Mathias, who for the first time noticed a true emotion in them, and wondered why it was not irritation, or even anger. He saw traces of sadness, everywhere. "What can I not ignore from you during the next commercial break that will make you be quiet?"

Mathias' mind processed Alksander's hair, lying as smooth and naked as it was meant to be, and his eyes that didn't look normal, and now that he thought of it, his voice, too, and quickly drew a suitable conclusion.

"Go out with me?"

Aleksander dropped his drink. Thankfully, he was only holding it some two inches above the counter, but it was more than enough for the Dane to draw pleasure and grow a delighted smirk from this stranger's surprise. He took in the slight parting of his mouth, complete stillness of his body and _very _wide eyes. At least until Aleksander reined in control of himself and slammed closed everything that had been open and obvious. His eyes took in Mathias up and down so quickly it seemed he only looked at his feet and head. "You're gay?"

With a careless shrug he replied, "Dated a guy in my second year of high school. He wasn't any better or worse than most girls I went with before or after." No response; an irritating clinking of glasses from the bartender. "What, you a homophobe?"

"I could care less if you were attracted to cats," Aleksander replied smoothly. "I also think you're a half-drunk idiot and you want a person of either gender to fuck your troubles away, and it won't be me. Even this town has a few prostitutes if you look hard enough. Goodbye." He took his hat by the hem and glided off the barstool and out the door.

The bird documentary came back on and began a segment on the courtship rituals. Mathias exhaled slowly and rested his head on one arm, looking gloomily at the fingers at the end. He curled them, tightened the fist till the hurt began to distract him. He always felt rage after failure, and tried to control it, usually, but this time it was tainted with something else that made him wish eagerly for an excuse to explode.

Clinking those glasses again, pressing some buttons on his phone, the bartender got in his face again. "Dude. You didn't give enough before. You still owe ten thirty-two."

Mathias had to be thrown out that night.

* * *

"You're an angel, babe. I mean, seriously. Can I do something for ya? Take out some bitch at school? Get Vash outta the house?"

Laughing in that cute way of hers that no one could copy, Lilli tied her black waiter's apron behind her back. It was almost _too _cute for a young woman a few months off from graduating high school. Mathias had known her and her brother since they had moved out of their parents' house some four years ago.

"Oh, no, no. You're a good friend of my brother's. I've known you a long time. That's certainly enough." She glanced to the side as a man with round glasses walked by and shot Mathias a dirty look. "Mr. Berg isn't a harsh manager, really. It wasn't so hard convincing him to let you in again. He wants me to tell you, though, that the next time it happens, he'll call the cops and make you spend a month in jail."

She pushed a little plate of pastries towards him and he took the biggest one off the top. "S'his fault for hiring such a weak little pussy. Doesn't leave me the fuck alone, says I owe him money that I don't, he totally deserved a good bitchslap in the face."

Lilli smiled humorlessly. "You broke his nose, Mathias. Jenna tells me she saw you talking to a cute boy and he left a minute before you punched Lukas. Did he say something to make you mad?"

It had been a week since that day, but he certainly wouldn't forget. A smile appeared on his face of its own accord and he replied, "Yeah, I was. He was from Norway. I think I was annoying him…he wouldn't go out with me."

Now she was trying to hide a genuine smile. "You—hhah!—you punched someone because you were angry a stranger wouldn't d-date you? Did you consider he was probably just not attracted to men?"

"He was hotter than hell!" Mathias tried to defend himself. "_Plus _he had a friggin' adorable accent, just a little one. And when I actually asked him, he looked like I'd just grown a Predator's face; that was like icing on the cake."

"That an attractive person didn't want to date you is not a reason to hit someone."

"What, it's not like I just wanted to screw him. God, everyone thinks that of me!" He leaned forward a little, quickly, and tightened his hand on the edge of the bar. "His voice was interesting. I wanted to hear him talk. His clothes were sorta fancy, so maybe he was rich or they just wear things like that in Norway, and I wanted to know which it was. And he was obviously irritated at me, but he looked sad. I still want to know why that is. And how the hell his brother got a pet puffin. That's freakin' weird." He added a laugh at the last few sentences, to make sure that "weird" was conveyed as the kind of weird that brought up smiles, and joined friends.

Lilli dusted the countertop and hummed, and took the order of two women who sat on the opposite side of the bar. When she came back, she lifted a notepad and pen out of her hand. "Hello there. Sit anywhere you like, and may I start you off with a drink?"

Seeing as the nearest flat-screen was showing commercials, Mathias turned to look and perhaps people-watch whoever sat next to him. Aleksander.

'_Huh. Am I gonna get struck by lightning, too?' _

He had the same blank, handsome face that his memory had been keeping dutifully alive. His hat was gone but he wore the same navy jacket, and the cross-shaped hair barrette was also still there. He stared close-mouthed and disapproving at Mathias for a moment, and Lilli shifted her weight on her feet awkwardly, till Alekaander sat down on the Dane's right and requested some soda. Lilli swiftly went to the kitchen to fetch a larger glass.

Commercials were still running. Mathias moved fast as he could. "Didn't think I'd see you again. Hey, can you, like, elaborate on how your brother got his pet puffin? 'Cause that story's gotta be cool."

"You mean weird."

"Huh?"

"You just said you think the story of how my brother got his puffin would be freakin' weird."

Mathias felt a soft trill of laughter inside himself. "Then you probably heard everything before it, yeah?" Lilli came back with his drink and the moment she dropped the straw in, Aleksander leaned down with his face balanced slightly in his hand and took a sip. Stalling. Cute. "You say nothing, I'll assume yes. Come on, commercials are still going and nothing's on but this gay thing about the history of McDonald's. Storytime, please."

Instead of answering, he looked down beyond the other side of the bar to a table where a man in a green coat was cutting into some kind of meat. "Excuse me," Aleksander asked Lilli. "I would like what that man in the green jacket has." Scribbling something on her pad, she walked off to the kitchen.

Instead of adding, "Hey, I'm _waitiiiing,_" like he wanted to, Mathias sat and waited. "My brother goes to Iceland during the summer to visit his friend," Aleksander began.

"Iceland?"

"Yes."

"_Iceland?_"

"Shut up. My brother's friend lives near a beach where puffins come to breed, and they would walk there after lunch every day. They were nearly back home from one such walk when they noticed a chick following them, and it wouldn't leave. They took it home, fed it, gave it a blanket to sleep on, and it still never left. My brother brought it home with him—took it on the plane with him—because it would never leave him alone. So it was his pet from them on."

"What's your brother's name?" Aleksander did not stall by sipping his drink this time; he merely stared at the TV and its completely uninteresting McDonald's documentary. "The story's cute an' all, but when you tell a story the people it's about usually have names. Sooo…."

Now Aleksander sipped his drink, and took in more in one sip than a typical person could probably fit in their mouth. He glanced at Mathias, who didn't look irritated in the least at his obvious stalling gesture. Aleksander swallowed, hard, and said, "Gunnar. And his puffin is named Narfi."

"Okay. See, you could have said that first. Anything else?" This got him nothing but a raised eyebrow. Mathias had to smile, and a low chuckle rumbled out of his chest without his meaning to. He gladly let it. "What? I like hearing you talk."

"I don't like talking."

"So? I still like hearing it."

The little bell on the kitchen door rang as Lilli stepped out from behind it and announced Aleksander's Grandfather Duck dish would be ready in just a minute. Mathias quietly ground his teeth. It wasn't food she was bringing out, it was an excuse for Aleksander not to talk to him. And were she anyone else but his old friend's adorable sister, he'd be goddamned inclined to slam that kitchen door shut and jam their fingers in it besides.

He had to think of something, fast, something interesting, something that'd be interesting enough to a guy who liked birds and hairclips and being an emotional floorboard—and Coke—that he'd want to talk to him and eat at the same time.

Fuck. Nothing. Well, he'd have to fall back on whatever the hell was in front of him. That usually turned out okay.

"So, what's up with the hair dec?" And he pointed at the cross-shaped barrette just in case it wasn't obvious.

Aleksander narrowed his dark eyes just enough to make his distaste known. "A gift."

"From who?"

"I don't see how that affects you at all."

"So?"

"…"

"…Pretty please?"

With a sigh of, "God, even sober, you're annoying," Aleksander slid off the barstool. "The waitress can just give the food to you." When Mathias called, "Wait a sec!", Aleksander decided to be kind and stopped with his hand ready to push open the door.

"I realized I forgot something last time, and almost this time." he laughed. "My name's Mathias."

Not even a blink. "Goodbye, Mathias."

He whirled around joyously on his barstool and saw Lilli standing there with the Grandfather Duck held smoking and sweet-smelling in both hands. She stared in the direction of the door openly, admiringly, the way he sometimes caught Berwald looking at Tino. She set down the plate and broke the silence by murmuring, "Keep trying. I think he'll be worth it."

* * *

BEEEEEEP

"_What's up! You've reached Mathias Sørensen, battle axe extraordinaire! Leave a message at the beep, and Francis, if you spam my message machine again with read-aloud erotica, I will hurt you. Thanks!"_

BEEEEEEP

"Mathi'es. S'Berwald. Callin' from the hosp't'l. Tino wanted me t'call you fer days now, ask'd me to a doz'n times. I dun see why. This is _yer _fault. Fer yer inform'tion, the doctors couldn't re'ttach a single thing. He needs a pros'tetic han' now. …Fuck you."

* * *

Days passed and he went all that time without going back to the restaurant, without looking for the boy who refused him and without being able to contact Berwald or Tino. Both their cell numbers were no longer in service. Vash didn't know anything about what was going on with them, and didn't really want to talk to him. His last girlfriend, Elizabeta, saw him in a movie theatre, met his eyes, and deliberately walked out.

He wanted to drink. So he did. But he didn't go back to where he had found Aleksander, where he wanted to wait for Aleksander. He found an old hangout from his best days with Vash, a darker place where slightly dimmer lighting pretended to mask the unsettling things that went on in the most unlit corners.

He used to know people who came here, but he had since drifted out of their shadow. Now he had a foot back in their territory again. Someone he thought he knew was sitting on his right, and some new catch sat beyond him.

The guy's name was Stefan. Probably. But they had definitely used to be somewhat close, close enough to tell stories like this to one another. So after the story had been relayed, Mathias told Stefan, or growled to him, "I don't see the fuckin' problem. We were _supposed _ta try an' hurt each oth'r, tha's the point of the exercise! I didn't fucking mean to do that."

Stefan's little catch was texting, and had been listening, too. She said, "Aleks was probably right. Sucks to be in your friend Timo's boat. You _do _need a pretty little someone to fuck your troubles away for a while. Stefan here's done with me at eleven."

Aleks, she said. _Aleks,_ like she knew him and he would let her call him anything but Aleksander. _He _would call Aleksander "Aleks" one day, not this leather-clad little tramp.

"Don't want you!" he spat, a drumbeat of alcohol making his head ache. "Want Aleksander. Want him to care. Want Tino t'be…better…t'forgive me."

She scoffed as though no rejection had just occurred. "Tch. Bet if I found your lovely Aleks and asked him, he'd have me."

Bitch didn't know him at all. "Aleksander doesn't think _I'm _up to 'is standards, 'e's not gonna sink to _your _level, you little cunt."

"And you've met him, what, twice now?" Stefan slurred, picking at his fingernail. "God, you guys must be sooo close. I bet you shared your diaries and everything. You should do each other's makeup."

"Yer gonna need a _lot _of fuckin' makeup if you don't shut yer mouth."

Stefan didn't take him, anything, seriously. That could have been the flaw that got him here. Mathias' tired eyes held onto his old friend's face, waited for a cocky little smirk, a stupid remark. He wanted to hit something. A broken jaw probably wouldn't show too much with the guy's goatee. He straightened up, one side of his mouth curled upward in the retard smile he always smiled when he was shitfaced. He was about to get it.

"Whaaat? You don't want me talking about your boyfriend 'cause he doesn't like you?"

Mathias stood up.

"Calm down, Mathie-kins! Hahaha! You get pissed so easy! Seriously, man, jus' let him go. In fact, let me have a try at him, he sounds pretty hot. Um, you said the restaurant you saw him at was—"

* * *

He went back to the restaurant the day after, hoping and hoping and hoping like a stupid little child on Christmas morning to find his new object of affection. And like a child with very considerate or rich parents, his hope was completely fulfilled. Sunday night, business was slow and the number of diners low. Aleksander was at the bar again, but on the opposite side of the square, so he saw him coming. He had no jacket on today, merely a comfortable, long-sleeved shirt, so his body frame was more open for admiration. Mathias promptly began to admire.

There was no frown on his face as Mathias made his way around the bar to sit next to him. No scowl or narrowed eyes, just his normal blank face that Mathias decided then that he didn't want to stop looking at.

"I hope you realize I'm gonna sit next to you every time I see you here?"

"I'm tolerant," he replied, and pressed a button on a remote that was laying by his hand. He changed the channel on one of the restaurant's four televisions until he stopped at a movie of some sort. A doctor crouched by a bleeding, stuttering prisoner in a cluttered cottage, and at the prisoner's request, euthanized him. The actors all spoke a language he didn't understand, but subtitles were present and helped him understand.

"Reminds me of the war in the north," Mathias remarked, and got a dark-eyed, just-a-little irritated glare in return. "What's that look for? For like three years now, around the coast of Norway, and it's about done—ah, _shit, _I'm retarded. You're from there, I'm sure you know—"

"I know."

"—yeah, I'm sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night so I'm sorta out of it. I mean, I got like, four hours. I haven't done that since high school. It was worth it, though."

"Four hours is nice." Aleksander commented.

"Nice? Um—"

"I would love to sleep four hours uninterrupted," he added, softly nudging the straw in his Coke.

Mathias sensed the thread waving in front of his face. He grabbed onto it, reached for more. "Why's that? You work a lot?"

He lifted his drink and sucked some through the straw slowly. His adorable little stalling maneuver. It made Mathias grin. "No. My job is fairly normal. I just don't sleep well."

He reached for another thread. "Where do you work?"

"None of your business."

"Aww."

* * *

When Mathias went home that night, he slept deep and blissful, and dreamed about puffins on planes, screaming boys and an axe, a phantom bottle of Coke, and taking that bottle in his hand and giving it to a blurred figure with a blue hat on. He knew it was Aleksander, and sat bouncing and impatient until he came into focus, and sipped his drink…and smiled at him.

_Please, please, please, please, please, let me see that for real. I want to touch it for real._

He woke up the next morning and craved it. He went through the next several days working, walking, talking and ignoring the fact that he wanted it. He went back to the seedy place where he had thrown Stefan onto the floor and broken both his wrists for his fucking rude comment and looked for the girl he'd been with. She was there, and knew just what he wanted and whose name he would cry out that night. Her name was Natalia, and she freaking loved bondage.

She was almost worth what she charged for her parting words as she left Mathias' apartment: "I hope you have fun showing those games we played to your little Aleks."

Nice girl, that Natalia.

* * *

He got a text the day after that, from a number he didn't recognize, but that didn't matter.

_Hi, it's Tino :) The operation's done and my new hand's great. Pretty soon Berwald will let you come and see!_

It made his heart warm. It made him want to see Aleksander. He gave in to this impulse and, tossing on his favorite black coat with handsome red cuffs, drove down to the restaurant that had become his favorite in the past several weeks. It was a little more crowded than he would have liked, but the bar was mostly vacant. The side where Aleksander was sitting only had one other person on it, a woman with an iPhone who would pay them little mind.

Aleksander had no soda this time, and Mathias concluded he must have just come here minutes before and had no time to order a drink. He had a remote again—the kindness of Jenna, a waitress and friend of Lilli's—and was adjusting the volume of a show on brown bears in the wild. He glanced up when Mathias came into view but didn't return his wave.

Once he'd sat, Aleksander told him, "You're sad tonight."

"No way, I'm feelin' great. I'm hanging with my favorite Norwegian."

Aleksander exhaled sharply in irritation, a rare sight. "And you're masking it. I guess that's to be expected. You've been ungodly happy every time I've seen you. Having that happiness taken away for once would be just shameful."

"Weeeelll, maybe I'll tell you…" Now he was sending out a thread; if he was lucky, Aleksander would reach out and take it. "Try and guess."

"Guess why you're sad?"

"Yeah."

"That's stupid."

"I'll pay for your drink."

"…You were fired."

"Please! I'm the only real man Mr. Bonnefoy's got."

Aleksander paused for a moment's thought, and a waitress set a coaster down and placed his drink on top of it. "Hm. Relative in the hospital."

'_Oh. Close.' _"No. Getting warmer, though. Sorta."

"This is idiotic. I could be watching bearfights." He turned his head and watched two male bears dash through a shallow creek and tackle each other.

'_I'm about to tell you something. Look at me. Look at me. Just me.' _"It's a friend who's getting _out _of the hospital." Mathias told him, but there was no response except a dimmer play of light on the Norwegian's face as the sun set in the bear program. "My friend Tino. He got a prosthetic hand."

His lips sliding off the straw, Alexander paused, yet kept his eyes on the television screen. Mathias knew well enough that his attention was caught. He could not let it go. "How did he lose his hand?" he asked.

"Me."

Aleksander looked. "Really."

"Yes." He drew up the words carefully. He'd been waiting a long time to say this, to tell someone about it, and to make Aleksander pay attention to him. "The war in your country…this country is still supplying troops to aid the effort. Tino, Berwald, Vash and I were all going to go together. I know you think I'm stupid. And if you didn't guess before, I get…violent sometimes. And even when I know I'm doing something wrong, I don't stop, because I like fighting. I like winning fights."

He was looking, listening. Yes, yes, yes. "We had to do six months of training before we left. We only had a month to go, and we were doing a combat exercise, with weapons that were more or less real. Tino had a shotgun that shot tranquilizer darts. I had an axe, tall as Lilli, and it was dull and mostly hollow. We started the fight, and got hurt some and people cheered us on a lot, and it was going good. And the captain blew a whistle to stop. And I didn't. Couldn't. I knocked Tino's gun away with my foot. And cut off his hand with the axe."

Mathias heard the familiar sound of glasses tinkling near the bartender, and felt the familiar wrench in his heart at the destruction he'd caused. He'd stolen a car in his second year of high school, picked and won as many fights as he had teeth, and came uncomfortably close to drinking himself to death at Berwald's graduation party. And he knew now that he'd do it all over again the reverse way, be a responsible kid, get a better grade in his math classes, be _good, _if he could do the exercise over again and not _maim _his oldest friend.

At some point his head fell into his palm and he held it there, his mouth contorting like he wanted to cry, but no tears would come. He had clenched his free fist enough times for his fingernails to nearly have busted through the glove by the time he felt a hand on one shoulder.

He didn't look. That could drive it away. "I'm sorry. That's an awful thing." Aleksander said, but Mathias heard so much more from the hand resting on his shoulder. Aleksander had never touched him before, not even offered his hand for a shake.

When it tried to retreat, his hand tore away from his own face and captured it. "What, are you a girl or somethin'?" he said, trying to keep from grinning. "If you're gonna touch me, actually touch me." He moved Aleksander's hand to his own face, pressed it there gently, and held it there with his palm. "I didn't tell that story just to get it off my chest."

"You told it to hold my hand?" Aleksander nearly growled.

"Partly," And he adjusted his friend's hand slightly to feel the new skin on his, and it felt good. "Partly because I wanted to tell it to someone who wouldn't act like I'm the goddamn devil for it. I _do _feel sorry for it. It makes me fucking sick that I did that. I want to apologize to him more than I can tell, I want to cut off my own hand, but I can't even contact him until Berwald calls me."

"Also," he added, "partly because I wanted you to pay attention to me. Not dismiss or ignore me for once."

"Then you've achieved your goal," Aleksander said slowly, and Mathias happily noted that slowness. "Now let my hand go."

"But I'm not done!" Mathias said a little too cheerily. "Now I have to pay attention…" He pulled hard on Aleksander's hand, nearly spilled the glass of Coke, and pulled him nearly as close as he had been in his dream. "to you."

Mathias kissed him. He merely felt the shape of his lips first, which was good for a first kiss. Kind, he thought. But it didn't last long. He got impatient and hungry, and went hunting for more. Aleksander was either surprised or weak; he offered close to no resistance when Mathias moved his tongue past his lips and began to explore. A soft moan permeated his mouth when he tried to move back, but Mathias had been waiting far too long to have the patience left to allow such a thing.

Aleksander had moved back half an inch or so before Mathias pulled them back together and they both had a slim opportunity to look each other in the eye: Aleksander saw the talkative fool who had been interrupting his peaceful nights here had all but gone and had left a grinning beast in his place; Mathias gleefully saw his blank-faced foreigner's cheeks were dusted faintly red, his palm was most definitely beginning to sweat and his eyes perplexed and far more innocent-looking than he'd believed they could be.

Lilli was right. This was worth it. He forced Aleksander's head closer to his with one hand, pulled at his shoulder with the other to pull his whole torso closer—mouths weren't enough. He felt a hand on his arm pushing slightly, resisting and shaking at the same time. You'd think he'd never been kissed before, and by a man, this was probably true. It showed all but obviously in the movements of his tongue, its resistance and awkward attempt to keep away from his, and that made it all the more fun to dance and play with it and bring it back. And taste it. Because he was fond of that taste already. Perhaps it was because he'd been a bit of a bully in his younger days, but he felt a slight thrill to be playing with something, someone, who was resisting. But it was not mean-spirited like that kind of playing; someday Aleksander would understand that and want to play, too.

He was suddenly compelled to end the kiss and touch their foreheads together. End softly. Tenderly.

Aleksander was breathing fitfully, sweetly, by now and trying to mask it, but he didn't have nearly the amount of composure as when he was taking a long, slow drink from a straw and he was all exposed now. He grasped the young man's arm and gripped it slightly, trying to say a half a dozen things Aleksander's own heartbeat was probably too dramatic to allow him to hear verbally right now.

Some people were probably staring at them now and they may just get thrown out for such an obvious show of affection between men, but who the hell cared, now that he had Aleksander? Aleksander, who would soon be Aleks, his Aleks.

"Well…Aleksander…" He said, being polite, for now, "wanna come to my place?"

* * *

HOO BOY. That's a week's worth of writing right there. (Don't hope for a lemon next chapter. Lime, maybe. But I'm not that bold.)

Obsessive!Denmark ftw, everyone. Everyone tends to write him as either very violent with a dash of playful, or very playful with a dash of violent. I suppose I've gone for the latter, and added a sprinkle of angst: Denmark's natural ability to be violent got carried away beyond anything he'd ever done before, and he's paying for it by knowing the damage he caused Finland will extend for the rest of his life. Denmark being a drinker is canon, by the way. Hm.

Norway has a secret of his own, too, of course, but he will not give his up so easy. Or maybe he will. (Hint: He's lied about it already.) My plans for the other half of this two-shot are not complete, so I can't say, myself...

Oh. And I support Sweden being _somewhat _unintelligible when he talks. He mumbles but he doesn't have his mouth sewn shut, guys.

See you in the other chapter…


	2. Chapter 2

I have for you another piece of this tale…like, a year and a half later. I didn't so much lose inspiration as hit a massive road block in figuring out how to get to the ending I wanted (also got caught up in my other favorite fandoms, Naruto and Pokemon…and Naruto-Pokemon crossovers!) Plus I decided to drop the "two-shot" commitment and let this run however long it needs to tell the story I have planned. My writings tend to end up _much _longer than I anticipate. I'd tell you my other, bigger account where you can see twenty-odd examples of that, but then I'd have to execute you.

Anyhow,** this chapter, or at least its flashbacks, are darker than the first chapter, ** so be warned.

In the flashbacks, (_which are italicized thus) _Aleksander/Norway is 17. Gunnar/Iceland is 16. Oh, and in the present time, Aleksander is 21 and Mathias is 22.

Also, you'll notice that Aleksander is once described wearing a certain outfit (look for the word "vest".) This is that outfit, and when you get to that part you should scroll back up here and copy n' paste this into your search bar so you can look at the picture, because it's_..._quite hot. Probably worth the ten seconds it takes you to copy, paste and edit the below link

_Go to a website called "zero" "chan" dot nett, but spelled with no spaces and, you know, normally...with a backslash and then THIS number after it: 102826_

* * *

_On Monday, he decided they should leave home before anyone came out as far as their house. Aleksander packed the food and Gunnar packed favorite belongings, and they took turns carrying Narfi. They walked all day and Aleksander found them an empty, lone house to sleep in, and told his brother it was all right to stay there as long as they didn't take anything. _

_On Tuesday, they reached a town, Ulven, and saw their first crowd. It was the end of the war, but there was no end to the refugees. No end of ragged arms pushing at fences and screaming to be taken to safety. They left, because the sight of it and the endless noise, like the walking and hungering dead, made Gunnar ill and Aleksander, secretly, terrified. They kept walking. Tuesday night, they slept on the side of the road and Aleksander told stories of Sofi and Lana and amusing old legends to make them laugh. _

_Wednesday morning, Narfi pecked their faces and woke them, and saved them from being woken by strange men with guns. When the brothers hid from the four would-be attackers, Narfi huddled in Gunnar's backpack and Aleksander quietly walked out from behind their rock. Before any of the attackers noticed him, he shot each one till they lay on the ground with red holes in their heads. _

_Gunnar shivered but did not say anything. He was certainly not so young that he could not understand this, but neither of them was so old, or so black or heartless within, that they could truly justify it. Aleksander pocketed his gun and told his brother as forwardly as possible, or perhaps reminded him, that if anyone attempted to hurt them or got in the way of their journey out of the country, he would kill them. _

* * *

'_Please say yes, please say yes, for the love of God, Aleksander, say yes.' _Maybe, _maybe _if he'd surprised him enough, maybe if he'd never kissed a guy before, maybe he'd be too stunned having his mouth thoroughly raped and if all of that could just work out, Aleksander would be in shock from the whole thing and say yes. And after just one time, Mathias was sure he could make him say yes again.

He was still catching his breath, but his face had for the most part returned to its regular paleness. Aleksander still bowed his head, hiding his face, and still didn't say anything, until there was a harsh, husky, "No."

"Yes," Mathias said instantly. Rejection couldn't happen. It couldn't.

"No." Aleksander said, a little clearer. He was already overcoming the sweet, rough shock Mathias had given him. Dammit. "This is…just like the first time I saw you. Whoever you found th-that you screwed that night, you can find again. I don't want this." He started pulling away. One of his arms slid out from under his Mathias', but only because Mathias was in turn reaching for something else, the Norwegian's hat. Aleksander was quick to grab it, too, but Mathias wasn't moving his hand from it.

They both had their hand on Aleksander's hat, the smaller blonde's fingers partially covered by his own. The knuckles soft and faintly warm. Their owner's eyes were depressingly blank as they usually were. "Give me my hat."

"Go out with me."

"Are you fucking stupid?" Mathias' grip on the hand slackened slightly in surprise. "I'm _not interested_. There are plenty of homosexuals out there who are. Go out and find some." He pulled on the hat, but found it was still held too tightly. "You're acting like a petulant little child. Let go. I'm tired and I want to go home."

"What's wrong with just going to a movie?" Mathias asked, keeping his smile merely congenial. It hid the torment inside his body that _not interested _had stirred. "All you have to do is sit next to me for two hours and not talk. Isn't that basically what you try to do every time I see you?"

Laying out that straight fact may have fazed him some. For a few seconds, Aleksander stared with his eerie, dark eyes. He stared for a few more seconds. And then a few more. And then it was making the Dane nervous. And then irritated. All before realizing the guy was just stalling again. Just sipping from a drink.

"There's no need to pay to see a movie. We'll find something on a channel here."

"You wanna have a date…in this restaurant? And be obliged to talk to me?"

"Obviously neither of us is going to be late or get lost on the way. It'll be this time tomorrow night. Don't dress up, or you'll look like an idiot. Goodnight."

"Hope you sleep well," Mathias said immediately as Alexander left, and was surprised to see Aleksander stop and stare at him with his eyebrows slightly together, like he was confused and frightened at once. With that expression still in place, he left the restaurant and walked outside into a windy night, went all the way down the block till Mathias' eyes couldn't find him anymore. Once he was positively out of sight, Mathias took out his cellphone, pressed the shift twice to turn on the capslock and sent a text to Lilli: _I'VE FUCKING GOT HIM!_

* * *

He obeyed Aleksander's word and didn't dress up. He wore his black trench coat with the red cuffs only because it was raining, not that he was complaining about wearing it. Countless girlfriends in the past said he looked hot as hell in it. But since the heat was on in the restaurant, he was forced to take it off. Underneath was a red shirt he liked because it had a flame-eyed dragon curled near the left hip. Dragons were a badass design on clothing, but only on certain men. Dragons didn't seem to suit Aleksander. Unless Aleksander was wearing Mathias' clothes, and…and should that come before or after he started calling him Aleks?

Aleks, no, Aleksander came through the door some five minutes later…fucking dressed up. Sure, his pants were nothing but jeans, and they had a little chain making a loop out of and back into the right pocket, which was cool or rebellious or some shit like that—and hey, he wasn't wearing his hat—but he wasn't wearing a regular shirt. No, he had a shirt-with-buttons, the white kind with cuffs on the end that you wore to some stylish party or even to some office job, and on top of that was…a purple-blue-ish vest. Actually, the combo of them was kind of hot. So never mind.

Lilli, on her shift tonight, greeted him and guided him with a schoolgirl's fascinated smile to where Mathias had just sat down, for once a booth instead of at the bar. "I'm sure I know what you want to drink," she said to Aleksander, and he nodded politely. "Do you want the same, Mathias?"

"Nah, surprise me with something from the bar, kid."

"I hope you won't be driving home," Lilli said, and rushed away.

Once she had gone, Mathias was about to make an opening teasing statement about dating men, when he realized something was off here. "Hey…where's your hairclip?" Aleksander sighed and turned his head to the side, revealing his hairclip. "Oh. Sorry. I'm not used to seeing you from the front."

"Yes, I get blinder when I see people from the front, too."

"Well, it's so weird seeing you without that jacket and hat. They…" He stopped and cocked his head. "You got this long hair sticking out on one side. It's, like, curling."

"Yeah…I can't really get rid of it." Aleksander replied and appeared to dislike Mathias staring at it. "It's a hair. There are far more interesting things about me than that one hair."

"Tell me some, then…Oh! Duh! Your accent. I like it. Tell me where it's from. Like, more specific than just 'Norway'." Lilli returned at the completion of this sentence to deliver their drinks, and failed to keep a thoroughly amused expression off her face as she dropped a straw into each. She took their orders in a very pleased voice.

After ordering, Aleksander replied, "Ulv Bakke. It's a half a day's train ride from Trondheim to an old train station from which you must be ferried across a river to get there. Some fools might try to swim across as well." Mathias downed a gulp of his surprise drink, which earned its title of surprise drink since he couldn't guess what it was. He divided his time between sharing his best stories with Aleksander and discovering the identity of his drink, which apparently was asexual and created some spawn, because the next time he looked, it had two other big, empty glasses beside it, and a half-empty plate of…what was that? Fish? Had he ordered it?

He looked up and saw Aleksander leaning his head in one palm, observing him in a way that was definitely more interested than normal, or maybe he was just feeling the newness of actually having the guy's eyes on him. Mathias' mouth moved on its own. It apparently remembered he was telling a story that his brain forgot, which happened when he drank too much.

He was doing some rant along the lines of, "—and the prick doesn't actually _say_ anything to me, but he's got this look on his face that's sending a whole load of 'when-a-winery-hosts-a-wine-tasting-the-tasters-don't-actually-swallow-it-they-spit-it-out-which-is-why-there-are-men-standing-around-with-buckets-you-fucking-_idiot._" which without a doubt made Aleksander smile.

The quick, amused exhale, which counted as a laugh, was maybe important too, but the smile was magnificent. He had seen something like it in his wonderful dream a few nights before. He was thinking about that smile and the many degrees of drunkenness when Lilli came over with the check in her hand. Aleksander took it, and the two of them exchanged muffled words, money and then numerous glances in his direction. It was confusing.

Suddenly Lilli was in his face, and her eyes were green like an alien. "Mathias, Markus is going to cover for me while I drive you home, okay? Can you stand up?"

That Lilli was just too damn sweet for her own good, no wonder she and Vash hadn't had an argument since she was seven. But he didn't want her help now. He look across the table to where a blurry-lined, slim figure in a damn fine vest was staring right back. _Fuck,_ his eyes were beautiful. Must. Stare at them.

"I guess it's…aghh…it's not right to expect you to put out on the first date, but man, I'm plastered. You wouldn't drive your drunk buddy home?"

"I walk here," Aleksander replied, maybe a little triumphantly, like "HA! I'm freed from the responsibility of having to waste my time helping you, bitch!" or maybe, "HA! I'm free to run straight home and jerk off to your gorgeous voice in my head!" or those ideas were stupid and he just needed some sleep. Oh. He was still talking. "—no need to drive here when I can get exercise by walking, and I can't carry someone as large as you. Your friend Lilli will get you home."

Before he knew it, Lilli was pulling him up by the arm and saying soothing, non-headache-inducing things as she walked him to the door. He stopped just before he reached it, because something was missing here—oh, duh! He hadn't even said goodbye. Aleksander would think even less of him if he was too drunk to say freaking goodbye.

So he turned and looked for him, and found him still sitting in the booth, looking his way. Definitely looking his way. And—smiling—he raised his hand and opened the fingers partway in a wave. And smiling. That is what _God _looks like, right there. That was Mathias's new god.

Mathias raised his lips just a little in a smile more powerful than Aleksander's. But then it seemed the floor was moving, because he was starting to go out the door and his feet didn't seem to hit the ground like they would if he were walking, which meant he was walking on air. Lilli was telling him something about men, and luck, and then someone named Matthew. Then the car transformed into Mathias' bed, and there were no headlights or dashboard, just the little red lamp on his nightstand and his window with the blinds cracked, and then a dream of Aleksander, smiling.

And then Aleksander, removing his vest…

* * *

The next day began with a snarky little bitch named Hangover and his phone ringing way too loudly at eight-twenty in the morning. He reached over to his nightstand and flipped it open. "Yhhh…yess?"

"M'thias, 'm gonna say this once, an' you better fuckin' listen, 'cause I think I may jus' be glad t'nev'r see ya again."

Mathias said, "Okay," and listened. His hangover was suddenly nothing in comparison to the words of Berwald.

"Tino jus' got discharged from the Kuningas Hospital in Offen. We're on th' way to yer apartment complex. Git outside right th' fuck now. If yer not there, I'm takin' him home and fuck if I never let you see 'im again." From farther away, there was Tino's voice, light and happy, happy when it should never be. He was saying something that made tears crackle in Mathias' eyes.

"Okay. Okay, Berwald, I'm going outside right now. I'll—"

"Save it." Berwald hissed. "Ya need t'say this t'him, not t'me. You're m'friend. M'best one. But I'll never forgive you. You r'member that. You c'n save me from the wrath of God and things'll still never be th'same with us."

"Berwald—"

"_Shut_ up. And git outside n' wait. Now."

"I will! I will! You just—you drive at the speed of freaking light, Berwald, I'll be there no matter what!"

Mathias hung up and stared at his phone in his hands, and hated the message it carried. He threw the phone at the wall. The back casing fell off and he crushed his hands to his face. _"Fuck!" _

Tino. Tino. God, poor Tino. He thought his friend's name from the moment he got up out of bed and found the morning sun glaring at him through cracks in his blinds, while he pulled on clean clothes and brushed his teeth so he wouldn't look like a drunk loser. He rushed out of his apartment without locking the door and flew down the flight of stairs from the second level to the ground floor. Outside, winter was beginning to make its presence known and Mathias almost wished he'd worn another layer or brought a coat. But what did that matter? Tino. Tino.

He saw Berwald's car turning into the complex parking lot, and squinted to try and see the pale flash of Tino's hair next to him. They parked across the lot from where Mathias stood. He walked towards them slowly, carefully. Berwald came out of the car and seemed to be standing even taller than his normal height; Mathias for once saw his eyes the way most people saw them: fierce, icy sparks as menacing as a demon. A quiet beast. Tino came out of the car after him and blocked the gaze of hellfire Berwald was giving him.

He looked normal. Plain, white hoodie with his university's name scrawled across it, plain blue pants on thin legs. Two hands. The right one looked exactly the same as the left. It was fake.

Tino smiled to begin, which he'd done since he was a kid and probably also in the womb, if he could have. "Well…here," he began promptly, and held out his left hand as though expecting Mathias to kiss it. "Come on, feel it." Mathias stared at it, completely numb. "It's okay, Mathias." Tino added. "It is. Just feel it."

It was Berwald's black glare that compelled him, not his petite boyfriend's words. Mathias lifted his right hand and took the Finn's in a casual handshake—it was plastic it was smooth beyond anything God could have made, this hand this piece of _shit _that was his fault—and held that pose. There wasn't even a breeze.

"I'm so, so sorry." Mathias said. An ugly choking noise came up out of his throat. He didn't care to block it. "I ruined your life. I'm a stupid, bloodthirsty fuckup and this is my fault. I'm sorry." He held Tino's fake hand in both of his. Warmth seeped from his living limbs into his friend's false one.

"I know it's your fault." Tino replied. Berwald looked almost satisfied, and Mathias felt the deserved, icy slap in his face. It would stay there for years. "You know why I don't mind it? One, because scientific developments are fantastic nowadays. Second, because you _do _mind. I remember when we were younger you'd hurt people just to laugh. You didn't care. Now you care. You're a better person, and that means a lot."

Through slight sobs, Mathias said, "You…have got the be the sweetest person in the world. I'm, I feel like I should…look, if either one of you wants to punch in the face right now, do it. I deserve it more than anything in the world."

Berwald at last came swiftly around from his side of the car. Tino said his name faintly, like a warning, but Mathias didn't care. He locked eyes with Berwald up until the moment when his fist slammed into his nose. Mathias heard the cracking of bone along with the rush of blood through his nostrils and flaming pain in his face. His head slamming backward onto concrete felt like nothing at all in comparison.

While he held his nose and eye, he heard Berwald take another step toward him, heard Tino hiss like a harpy, "You're _done! _Stop it!" and some quiet and angry reply from Berwald. A moment later, someone grabbed his hand and hurled him up, dragging him this way and that.. He tried to ask what they were doing and heard a reply from Berwald: "Takin' ya to the hospital. Yer bleedin' yer damn brains out. But we'll go t' the hospit'l in Kuningas where Tino was. It takes longer t' git there."

* * *

_You have a new text message, sender, Al: Dude what the eff is going on with Tino? Is he ok? Does he hate you? Plz tell me! _

Mathias sat on his couch in his apartment and did his best to cover it all: _He forgives me but Berwald punched me so hard i cant see outta my right eye._ Send. Well, it was the truth.

More specifically, the truth was that he wasn't sure if things would be okay. Berwald wanted to still be his friend, and also wanted him to fall into a viper pit. Tino said he forgave him, but Tino forgave people who stole cars. Tino had a new hand but it was fake. Aleksander had kissed him but wanted nothing to do with him. Oh, Aleksander.

He had been so worried about Tino he'd forgotten Aleksander. Tino deserved the attention more, granted, but Aleksander. Aleksander.

Mathias wanted to see him. _Aleksander, jeg savner dig. _

* * *

He went to the restaurant a few days later, since it'd suck if Aleksander had to see him with a bruised and broken nose. He was healed again and eager to see violet eyes adorably averting and a pale little mouth closing and filling with satisfaction, things he had dreamed about more than once now.

From what he could see upon entering the place, Lilli wasn't working tonight, which was a shame. Most of her coworkers were an assortment of jackasses and bitches, but he could probably ignore them if he really tried. More importantly was the emptiness of the bar. Aleksander wasn't there, not on any of the four sides and not even in any of the booths. Not sitting on the leather-topped bench by the door waiting for a seat. Not by the manager's office complaining about the waiters.

Goddammit. Mathias seated himself at the bar and glanced uninterestedly at the television screen above him. It was playing a live soccer game. The announcer spoke too fast for him to understand, but with every goal of the team in blue jerseys came a whoop from half the people in the restaurant. A redheaded waitress took his order for a hefty mug of Carlsberg.

He watched the game half the time and watched the cheering and yelling of the restaurant-goers the other half. The waitress brought him more beer and he downed it eagerly as the men around him did. Soccer fans knew how to have fun, apparently! A guy with a ponytail sitting a few seats away moved closer and leaned ridiculously close to the screen. The blue team scored again and he and Mathias smacked their hands together joyfully. A waitress walked by and made angry faces at them.

"Stiff bitch." He growled in her direction.

"Whos'a stiff bitch?" his new friend said.

"That girl with the braid. Any guy who's enjoyin' himself is automatically a dick." He felt his face darken, and recognized the feeling. "Hate girls like her."

"Man, she does that again, you oughta show her what's what!" exclaimed New Friend.

"_Hey! _My mama said to never hit girls!" Mathias exclaimed, and shoved New Friend to the side.

New Friend's shirt changed from green to blue and he may have done a backflip as he fell to the ground. Whoa. "Aughh…" he groaned, grinning as well. "God, that hurt. You should play soccer, dude! You'd…make a kick—ugh…augh!—kickass goalie. Are your legs that strong, too?"

"All of me is strong, dumbshit." Mathias replied loudly. Ah, loud. Felt good to be loud! "That not obvious? You want me to show you?" New Friend laughed and laughed. A guy sitting on the opposite side of the restaurant screamed a cheer. "Come on, get up. I'll show you, dumbshit." Mathias grabbed New Friend by the shoulder of his coat and lifted him up one-handed till he stood. He grasped his ugly little shoulder tight and began walking towards the doors, slow and heavy and purposeful. "Let's go outside so we dun disturb th' stiff bitch and her customers. I'll show you. I—" Mathias was forced to stop talking when the door shoved forward into his face.

Through the little glass panel near the top of the door, he could see fair-colored hair, and some rat-skinny guy tried to squeeze by in the gap between door and jamb. "Hey. Hey!" Mathias said, and pulled him aggressively through. "I was gonna go through, _sir, _but ya seem to have shoved the door in my fucking face."

As the alcohol faded momentarily, Mathias had a moment of clarity and saw the guy was more lean than skinny, and looked pissed as a woman on her period. Looked like a smart little dick who'd think he was better than him. He'd always hated stuffy little bastards like this. "You seem to be a drunken idiot, so maybe you should go sit down before you shove the door in your own fucking face." spat Smart Dick.

Mathias grabbed the guy's arm and he gasped in pain at his grip. "You keep mouthing me off and I'll put a fist in yer face, little rat."

"You'll _what?_"

"I'll _punch _you, so it'll _hurt, _which is what ya do to people who act like _guaggh_!" The next few seconds blurred: all he could recognize was that he could suddenly barely breathe, and he was lying on his back. He rolled instinctively—the ones who fought him back and managed this far always tried to stomp—and coughed. And coughed and coughed. "God—God—aughh!"

His throat hurt. Mathias stood up and his eyes climbed tiredly up the guy's slim legs and faltered somewhere around his torso, since he recognized some part of that guy. He didn't recognize his shirt. Or even his face, right then. What was it? It came to him unfortunately some three seconds later, when he realized it was everything.

Trying to talk turned out to be a mistake. It just caused more coughing, which made more blood go to his head, which made him see Aleksander all the more clearly and _holy shit it was Aleksander. _He'd just threatened to hit Aleksander. Fucking God, no.

Mathias got up but his first attempts to apologize, slurred but desperate, were stopped by the blonde's glaring, critical face and harsh pose. Every inch of him was turning into hate and disgust, and with every inch Mathias felt more and more horrified. He watched the lean blonde head the bar, where a waiter was standing with two to-go bags. Aleksander passed money to the waiter and took one of the bags. By this time Mathias was almost standing, and feeling more coherent and stable.

"Wait. Wait! Hey!" He reached for Aleksander's arm and held it fast. "Please, goddammit, please—don't—go!"

"I had guessed you were a violent drunk." Aleksander scoffed back. But he didn't try to pull his arm back.

"…Yeah. Yeah." Not much to add to that. "I lose it sometimes. Drunk or not. I think I told you about that. I'm so sorry, man. I almost punched your freakin' lights out and I should never have even—"

"I punched you in the throat. It evens out."

Mathias' inebriated mind was able to recognize that statement as weird. "No it doesn't—what? Please, seriously, I'm so, so sorry. What can I do to make you forgive me?"

His Norwegian wrested his arm away suddenly. Mathias was always good at reading movements (it made up for not being good at reading words) and he read disappointment in that. Not anger or frustration but—no. No. After weeks of this, Aleksander was just disappointed, and in between that moment and the one after he grasped around for an idea on how to make this man like him again, and how to recover his completely destroyed chances of making him reach out. But nothing came. Mathias asked him again what he could do to be forgiven. So many lifetimes and maybe another goal for the other team on the television went by before he finally heard: "You can have a deservedly painful and shameful hangover."

Mathias sighed. "Yeah. I can probably do that. But that can't be enough. I was this close to seriously hurting you. I'm so, so fucking sorry—"

"Fine. Good. I'm going home now."

He whisked out the door fast as a cat, leaving him alone, which was not okay. Mathias followed him outside to apologize again. His boots made a heavy thumping sound on the sidewalk that his half-drunk head heard like an frightening echo in a movie. Aleksander, whose steps were light and made no sound, turned around as he walked to stare like at him like he was an attacking bear. It was kind of cute. At least until, "Are you trying to follow me home? Go away or I'll call the police, _rasshøl_."

The Danish and Norwegian languages were close enough for him to understand the word. It pushed him away, but he pushed back. "I almost _hit _you. That's not fucking okay. I would never hit you, Aleksander. I totally deserved that punch in the throat. And I don't want you to hate me. Please." And he looked like he was considering it. Up until he sighed. That looked reached through Mathias' haze. He recognized it; Berwald used to make that face at him when he said something dumb. He didn't like it.

"I will forgive you if you stop following and pestering me." He said after way too long. "I want to go home and eat in peace, without a stalker."

Suddenly he was fed up with the resistance, all of it. He attacked it. "I don't think you're getting that I want you to seriously forgive me because I _like you, _Aleksander." He tried to study the other's reaction to that but there was just a cool expression of…nothing. Well, there was more he wanted to say, so here comes the goddamn cavalry."I don't care if you think I'm an annoying douchebag, I think _you're_ interesting and you got damn nice eyes and I like listening to your voice. And I guess now you think I'm an annoying homo douchebag but I don't give a fuck about gender, 'cause I'd like you if you had boobs and your name was Alexandra, and I'd sure as hell kiss you again and have more dreams about you—"

"I'll eat with you at the restaurant again if you close your mouth."

Just a second before, Aleksander's face had exactly matched when he'd been kissed last week: lips parted and eyes a little too bright. Brows pushed slightly together and the whole body _curled _slightly, like he'd just experienced a burst of pleasure. One second of this reaction was enough to make Mathias close his mouth and let it soar up into a big smile. "Really?"

"Yes." Replied the other blond. "I work tomorrow and the morning after. But that evening, I'll be there. We can channel-surf for something obnoxious and violent that'll hold your interest. Please accept that offer and shut up."

He'd never been good at that "quit while you're ahead" crap, so didn't bother trying. "You sure listened to a lot of that before you told me to be quiet." He said with an even bigger grin. "Y'know, it's really fun to actually see emotions flying all over your face. Like just now. I wonder what part really got you the most—"

"Stop talking." Aleksander's face totally belied the fact that ten seconds ago, he'd looked like a blushing virgin. In front of a ticking time bomb. That was actually pretty fuckin' cute. But now he was cool again, his natural and kinda even admirable way. Mathias wondered what was really going through his head right now.

Watching the calm, pale face, Mathias asked, "If I stop talking that'll make you happy?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I'm done. Except for one last thing." He paused, waiting for some annoyed comment or a glare, but didn't get one. So he continued, less forceful than was normal for him, "kiss me goodnight." His Norwegian didn't say anything, just stood where he was and weakly glared. "Oh, come on. It's not like this'll be as intense as the last one."

Pause. He felt a breeze and remembered they were outside in Scandinavian winter. "I am not kissing a man," he said firmly.

"You did before."

"I didn't ask for that. You assaulted me." Aleksander replied. There was definitely a little bite to that sentence. "I should have punched you in the throat then, too."

"Well I'd take it in stride 'cause I'm a violent douchebag and I probably deserve to be punched." Mathias laughed. He thought of how Berwald had done just that this past week and cringed a little. Tino. "Come on, I'm not gonna freaking bite you. I didn't last time we ate together! And if you were seriously against me being—"

"You've already gotten a date out of me, against my will. I don't see why you need to be kissed on top of that victory."

Did he actually just call it that oh yes yes _yes_. Out of respect for the guy, Mathias tried not to look gloating when he said, "So it _is _a date? The day after tomorrow, you're going out with me?"

"No. But I can't see you acknowledging it as anything else, even though I was forced." Aleksander replied. He half-turned away. "Pray that your future girlfriend or boyfriend doesn't find that out your previous date had to be blackmailed. And for God's sake, don't drink yourself into oblivion that night. It's getting old watching you deliberately massacre your liver." Mathias immediately swore that he wouldn't drink, and felt a small trill of pleasure when Aleksander nodded to acknowledge that, to acknowledge him. He turned fully round, moving easily and coolly despite slick snow on the ground, and started walking away. He left Mathias with no kiss and no affection, but he did have hope still.

That he could make Aleksander react in these ways made him hope, and made him happy.

* * *

_On their third night since leaving home, Gunnar informed them that they were almost out of food, and offered to leave his pet here and go into the town they could see nearby to fetch more. Aleksander tore the gun from his hands and forbade it. Towns this near to the coast were dangerous. Thieves and opportunists were everywhere, and the food that remained would have to do. Gunnar was commanded to eat Aleksander's share. He had always followed and obeyed his elder brother's words, and though the thought of the fallen gunmen from two days before burned in him still, he submitted. _

_That night, they slept on a blanket they had taken from an empty house, saving the clean one from home in a bag. They looked at the naked stars and told old stories to each other, legends that they should have grown out of, but treasured with each other. Quieting and smoothing his voice just so, Aleksander talked his brother to sleep. _

_He watched over their safety in the night. When his brother was awoken by ugly dreams, Aleksander sang him a song that Gunnar had so loved when he was younger, and pretended nowadays that he didn't love it still. _

_Tomorrow would be the challenging day. Once they were on the right area of the coast, they would see the crowds again, others like themselves who were frightened and abandoned by the government that had fled and the depleting store shelves. "Food Crisis in War-torn Norway," was the last headline he'd seen online, two weeks before. But food was not all the war had taken away. _

_The crowds were like the walking dead in their relentlessness to be satiated and freed, and some of them would kill. Aleksander pitied them, and prayed for them, and worried that he might have to shoot them, too. He worried that they might not find a boat after all. Perhaps the crowds gathered for the circulated promise of a boat out of the country and not one that really existed. But there was no reason for the rest of the world to abandon their nation like that. _

_He was thankful for Narfi, who clucked and pecked at his hands whenever he felt sleep creeping in upon him. Together, they watched the land for predators, or other desperate people, who could be ready to kill. _

* * *

Work was a breeze. Work was nothing.

Work was that single breath where Mr. Bonnefoy told him "_Mon Dieu, _you're working excellently today, Mathias, what happened to you?" and he lifted and examined fifty-nine boxes in an hour and also had a lunch break with that funny Korean guy and other unimportant stuff. It was done quick, good, and then it was time to go to bed and then go to work again, not on schedule but just because he needed to waste the time, and right after he went home and got ready. He had a _date. _

It was thrilling, perfect, awesome that all of a sudden he was dating Aleksander when prior to this day he had only been wishing for it. So it was literally a wish come true. It wasn't under the best circumstances, and it only satisfied about ten percent of how much he wanted to be with and touch and understand this foreign, aloof not-quite-stranger, but it was a step in the right direction.

He was counting this as their second date, whatever Aleksander said. Mathias would do whatever it took to make the Norwegian enjoy himself, and start to like him in return. Or further the process. Because Aleksander had to like him at least a little, or care about his thoughts at the least, otherwise he would have totally pushed Mathias away. Hell, he could just…never come to the restaurant again, but he did, knowing the person he'd find there at least some of the time.

Mathias wondered again what Aleksander thought about him. He thought about it the whole way to the restaurant. There were many words, many was _funny, gorgeous, snappy dresser, drunkard, loud, annoying, clingy, off-putting, offensive, violent, dangerous, gay freak, I'll call the cops on you, leave me alone. _

The more he thought about it, the more the words spiraled down to hell and the more he could see himself from the viewpoint of someone stoic and beautiful and quiet: he probably did seem like a relentless homo-drunkard-asshole pursuing a person they were so head-over-heels about it just couldn't be helped, and Mathias felt really okay with just saying that this was moving kinda fast and stuff but he hadn't ever been so interested, so attracted to, so fiercely wanting to be around and touch another person that it was actually rather pathetic and weird for a guy like him, but he could see Aleksander right now, standing by the parking lot, and hell if Mathias didn't pick up speed and run at the skinny little thing like a starving lion.

The only object in his vision right now (was wearing his hairclip in perfect position and some good snow boots) was saying stop or what's wrong with you or other annoying words he'd heard before but yet again failed to stop him. The only thing that stopped him was the really embarrassing part where Aleksander totally _dodged _his vicious embrace and he practically fell onto his stomach.

Mathias turned around, not quite standing up, more consumed by something really urgent and touchy-feely every second. If he didn't hug Aleksander, some shit would fucking explode. But there was Aleksander saying, "You have ten seconds to explain why you're running like a drug addict, or I'm kicking you goddamned teeth in."

More of that deflecting stuff. It was hard to say in the right words, but that hurt. "That was just gonna be an I'm-sorry hug." He explained. It sounded too quiet, not like him at all. "For being an annoying douchebag."

"I think we've been through this part already."

"Not _really, _we haven't. If we'd done this part then I wouldn't feel like such a selfish fuck. And I would care more about whether or not you actually like me instead of just trying to force that to happen." He paused once to breathe, and to take in the fact that the other's face was just the same amount of cool and expressionless as it had been before. Mathias tried one more time. "Aleksander, _do _you even like me? Actually?"

Of course there would be a pause again. It was Aleksander stalling, Aleksander sipping from a drink, doing everything possible to avoid speaking to him. Which was all just prelude to the part where he got to leave and be alone again. Mathias thought these things, these sureties, even as he saw the fine face before him change, and the mouth pull to the side slightly. A just-barely-angered expression. Or confused. Or exposed. It was real emotion. The real rejection was coming but nothing could stop him from smiling, too, and loving what he saw.

The evening around them was so still he could hear the swift intake of breath, preparing the hated words. They came. "I like you more than I thought I would."

Did he? Did _he_—

Somewhere in his chest area was a very real, very uncomfortable twisting feeling, like something had gone in and squeezed his heart. "Can I hug you now?"

"Fine."

He gave the same lion-hug he'd tried the first time, the just-a-little-bone-crushing inescapable one. He could finally feel Aleksander all around, and even his hands which were barely moving could now feel his soft clothes under their fingerpads, and one pinky had found some skin between his pant line and a part of his shirt that was riding up. It just made him grin like crazy even more and think of his dream. Aleksander groaned a little and turned his head, which reminded Mathias of a kitten or something so he had to hug harder, move his hands around to feel him, and then kiss his little Norwegian's temple because Jesus fuck, he was so cute.

Also his shoulder was severely hurting, like whoa. Mathias had a little vision that it had been hit with an expert kung fu chop, which would not be surprising. If Aleksander could twist away from his bear hugs and aim a perfect punch to the throat, he probably knew some other vicious defense tricks, too. Serious pain going on right now in his torso-and-shoulder area, but he let Aleksander go peacefully with no chiding or pretending to smack him for his insolence. He cricked his neck and pushed a hand cheerily through his own hair.

Beyond his closed eyelids he heard, "I've never dated a man before." and Mathias sighed easily once.

"S'okay. I guess I never have either." He tacked on to the end, "I mean, one high school boyfriend who lasted like a month probably doesn't count. But I'm fine with it. I know you're still all nervous about it."

"I am." He admitted it right there, but it was still coated in his normal voice, which made it sound like no great admission at all. That he would try and hide it like that made Mathias chuckle.

"It's fine, Aleksander. Hey, no one's gonna give you shit about it if you're walking around with me, 'kay? I'm a very large fucking beast and no one has _not _regretted picking a fight with me since I was ten. But if you still feel bad, you tell me. I'll make it better. You know it from experience now, but I'll tell ya anyway I'm really good with comforting hugs. FYI." He added at the end, just for laughs.

Just-for-laughs worked. A little. It made Aleksander chuckle this time. His lips _definitely _moved up a little bit, and his eyes _definitely _showed part of a smile. They disappeared quickly like normal, but they had been there. No doubt, not one. So Mathias took this bit of happiness and took off with it. "So we're dating now, right? What are we gonna do?"

"We're going to walk down the road till we think of something to do." His Norwegian replied. The restaurant's got senior night right now and I won't have you disturbing the elderly or inducing heart attacks." Mathias said that was fair enough, and they started walking. They crossed the intersection past the shoe repairman and the fancy school, while he talked.

"Soooo, this should be the part where you tell me some interesting stuff about yourself, 'cause if we're dating I need to know you're not an evil serial killer who planned all this just to seduce and kill me."

"…My last name is Bondevik."

"Cool. I'm Mathias Køhler, nice to meet you. Have we met before?"

"Is that a joke?"

"I guess not, since it didn't work. Um. Okay. Oh! Dude! This is all weird since I just spent days and days trying to get _your _attention, but could you tell me about your brother? I mean, that puffin story just stuck in my head and I think it's awesome. Do you guys still have it?"

"I do." Aleksander nodded. "She lives and acts like a housecat, and occasionally sleeps on my bed. A very unique pet, and quite well-behaved." Mathias was astounded to see him go off on a quiet but steady tangent about Narfi the puffin and various oddities and incidents connected to her. They walked in the still cold for an hour; sometime during this period Mathias realized he'd been labeling Aleksander as 'his Norwegian' for a while now, and it excited him. Aleksander was his now. He silently awaited the day where he would let Mathias call him Aleks.

* * *

_They came to the coast just past noon, with their one bag and Narfi and the gun. Down the hill were the people, the walking dead. _

_The rumors of the boat had been true. There was a small cargo ship docked behind a metal fence, and four gunmen stood on its deck. They gazed upon the dozens upon dozens of people behind the fence who clawed and screamed and begged for passage. More than one trampled individual lay under their shuffling feet, and Aleksander would never lose the dream-faint idea that they were not humans anymore._

"_We can't go down there. We can't. They'll kill us." _

_Aleksander took his brother's arm, and made his promise again. "Gunnar, we will leave here. We _will _take a place on that boat. We'll leave and be safe, I swear. Don't you trust me, _lillebroren?_" Gunnar said that he did, so they walked down together. The noise increased, and their legs shook with fear. But the promise was made, so neither would stop. They reached the crowd and shoved through, shoved someone nearly to the ground, and searched for a gate together. _

_They struggled and pulled for a time they could not track. Men and women and three children pulled at their clothes, asking for help, demanding they move, telling them to get the fuck out of their way. Aleksander beat them away, screamed, kicked the men who tried to pull his little brother away. They couldn't know how long it had been, but the gunmen on the boat suddenly fell. _

_Three of the four fell into the sea, and three more appeared from belowdecks with larger guns. It was these men, and the remainder, who strode off the boat, across the small pier, and stood before the fence. Aleksander could see their intentions in their darkened eyes, and pulled his brother flat onto the ground. _

_Innumerable shots ran over their heads, and they watched blood sprays fall on the other's face. On Gunnar's was the hidden, fearful hate he felt for the entire war, for ruining his country and his home. Aleksander pulled him close and shielded his eyes. A body fell on them both, but it was quickly removed. _

_One of the shooters had used a key to come through the fence, and now stood above them. He shook his head and a grin appeared on his crazed, cracked lips. Only he and the two brothers remained by the fence; the crowd had backed away and now lay splayed on their backs and bleeding. Their screaming had lessened to nearly nothing. Now, there was no noise. _

"_I love this. Ah, I love this. I can probably win the bet. You just made this job a lot easier, kid." His rifle came down and pointed its vast barrel at them, an unending black eye. "Boy in blue. Get up." A second man had come from the dock, a second gun pointed at him. Aleksander got up and stood before the two strangers. _

"_You and these people want a ride across the channel, little bitch? You want to go to good old Denmark? Well, fine! We'll take you there, but such niceties don't come free. Let me think a minute what we want!"_

_Another appeared out of nowhere and retrieved their small gun from where it had fallen on the ground. The man brought it closer, but pointed backwards. He shoved it into Aleksander's hands, but it was only dropped, retrieved, dropped again. The others were pulling up Gunnar, forcing him to sit. Aleksander's face twisted, fell, and tears came unheeded from his eyes as he saw that Gunnar, too, knew. The promise was gone, the nights together and all their life now was behind them, and Aleksander's tears would not stop. _

_One of the gunmen became angered and struck Aleksander across the face. He gave him the small gun once more, and helped him point it forward. It shook. _

"_You and those people want passage out of the war zone, you will shoot him. Right now." _

* * *

…I told you it would be dark.

You're not done with that flashback yet, but you have now seen both Mathias' "darkest evening" and a large piece of Aleksander's. I'm glad to finally put my title to use. I'm quite fond of the story title.

Well, now. I waited nearly two years to finally write down that last flashback. To think, I started this fanfiction during the summer between junior and senior years, and now I'm a college freshman and updating again. Blame Naruto for thoroughly dominating my anime loves (it's always been my most beloved anime) but Hetalia fights a close second, and it appears to be taking over strongly.

I actually have been in a pretty powerful RoChu mood recently and am trying to write some of that to suit my own tastes (China = capable, cute and wise uke, Russia = uber-loving, possessive seme) but this chapter was close to finished so I decided to take that last stride with it. Like usual when I update anything, I finish the product late at night and am posting it at the cost of some lost sleep. That's how I roll.

Btw, apologies if Denmark DID sound or act rather obsessed, but that's how I like my seme characters. If you dislike the idea, I suggest you...deal with it.


End file.
